Anyone who collected Italian opera recordings in the 1970s will remember
how Riccardo Muti (EMI) and Claudio Abbado (Deutsche Grammophon) often went
head to head with their Verdi sets. In particular, I remember agonising
over their respective versions of Macbeth – as a hard-up student i
couldn’t afford both – eventually settling for the Abbado. That was a good
choice, as the recently remastered Universal BD-A and high-res download
confirms. However, I much preferred Muti’s more dramatic Aida, which
he subsequently revisited for Orfeo d’Or (live, Munich, 1979).

As music director of the Chicago Symphony, a post he’s held since 2010,
Muti has given us some outstanding orchestral recordings, chief among them
Prokofiev’s
Romeo and Juliet
suites and Berlioz’s
Symphonie fantastique/Lélio.
‘A high-water mark in recorded sound; gorgeous playing’ was my verdict on
the former. As for the latter, a Recording of the Month, I wrote: ‘Superb,
even revelatory accounts of both works; top-flight engineering, too’.
Indeed, under Muti I’d say the CSO and Andris Nelsons’ Bostonians are now
the pre-eminent US orchestras, with others trailing in their wake. It
certainly helps that both are supported by tech teams who are also at the
top of their game.

Nabucco, premiered at La Scala in 1842, was Verdi’s operatic breakthrough. The
work is probably best known for ‘Va, pensiero’, the Hebrew slaves’ chorus,
said to be a rallying cry for the Risorgimento. That’s now been called into
question, but what’s beyond doubt is the quality of Verdi’s score. Muti
blends Rossinian bounce with a lovely cantilena style in both the overture
and the chorus, ‘Gli arredi festivi’. There’s a thrilling sense of
anticipation and theatricality in the curtain raiser, the Chicago brass
especially well caught. Here, as elsewhere, the pliancy and character of
these fine players took my breath away. Rhythms are incisive but not
regimented, and there’s an exhilarating drive that amply demonstrates
Muti’s affection and feel for this repertoire. The chorus, perfectly placed
and passionately sung, is no less compelling.

As I’ve come to expect from CSO Resound, the recording is astonishing in
its range, detail and sense of presence. Indeed, producer David Frost and
his team have outdone themselves with this one; in particular, balances are
so natural and the stereo image is broad, deep and rock steady. Just sample
the orchestral crescendo at the start of ‘Patria oppressa’, from Macbeth: goodness, I’ve seldom heard it delivered with such
implacable intensity, the dark thunder of the bass drum as blood-curdling
as it gets. Muti phrases and paces the music so intuitively, and the choir
sing with such feeling that one could hardly imagine this lament better
done. But it’s the unwavering attention to nuance and colour – the soft
bass-drum beats subtly yet keenly felt, those pizzicati full and
firm – that reminds us what a fine orchestrator Verdi was, even this early
in his career. Then there’s the poignant, understated sign-off, which
surely foreshadows the composer near his peak (Simon Boccanegra
especially).

And while the CSO are a cool north American band, Muti makes them play like
a warm, deeply idiomatic south European one; it all sounds so luscious, so rounded, like a sun-kissed peach ripe for the plucking. This
conductor was something of a showman in his younger days, but older now, and
with nothing to prove, he can just let the music speak for itself. Cue the
gripping overture to Lesvêpres siciliennes, written for
Paris in 1855 and then translated into Italian as I vespri siciliani. What a joy it is to hear this music played with such ease and atmosphere,
tuttis crisp, strings silky and songful. Once again, there’s a delicious
air of anticipation, with that powerful but proportionate bass drum and the
heraldic brass adding to a sense of impending spectacle. This really is an
opener that seems to encapsulate the entire opera in just a few glorious
minutes.

Muti never took to Puccini in the same way he did to Verdi, though he did
record Manon Lescaut twice (Deutsche Grammophon and Arthaus Musik).
The Internezzo is plangently played here, the Chicago strings at
their lustrous best. As ever, Muti sustains a lovely singing line, the
tuttis very dramatic indeed. And if it were possible, instrumental timbres
seem more faithfully rendered than before. Attractive as that interlude is,
it’s the one from Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana that’s most often
included in collections of this kind. Ubiquity has a habit of draining
pleasure from a given piece, so it’s a measure of Muti’s skill that he
reanimates and renews this oft-played piece. Perfectly poised, the organ
and harp simply magnificent, this sumptuous little number never sounds dull
or hackneyed here.

Near Instantaneous Companded Audio Multiplex – Nicam for short – remember
that? The very first TV broadcast I recorded on my suitably equipped VCR
was a performance of Boito’s Mefistifele, as presented by Maurizio
Arena and the the San Francisco Opera in 1989 (Arthaus Musik). It’s a sensational production, and the sound, as captured on my machine,
was a knock-out. Muti and his La Scala forces recorded the opera for
Sony-RCA in 1995, but, as good as that is, this new account of the prologue
makes me long for a complete performance from Chicago. Climaxes are
formidable, not overblown, and Muti paces it all so well. Bass Riccardo
Zanellato is excellent in the name part, and the massed choirs sing
radiantly throughout. The visual impact of Robert Carsen’s San Francisco
staging is hard to beat, yet this splendid opener from Chicago brings back
all the excitement of that epic performance. Samuel Ramey, a truly magnetic
Mephistopheles, repeated the role for Muti six years later.

From the quietest moments of those lovely interludes to Boito’s blazing
peaks, Charlie Post (sound engineer), Silas Brown (mastering) and David
Frost (editing and mixing) have captured every aspect of this concert. And
despite being a live event, there are no audible compromises. Also, you’d
never know an audience was present, as there are no ‘noises off’ and the
applause has been edited out. However, I was tempted to add my own, notably
at the very end, where, like the heavens, Orchestra Hall resounds to
Boito’s ecstatic choirs and cowers from that final, emphatic drum thwack.
What a pleasure it is to encounter an album of operatic excerpts that’s
consistently dramatic and delivered with consummate style and commitment.
My only quibble is that neither the Presto nor the Qobuz download includes
a pdf booklet. I hope that omission will be rectified without delay.

A peach of a programme, with playing, singing and sonics to match; quite
possibly my first Recording of the Year for 2019.